RusAme Drabbles
by Mizuni-no-neko
Summary: Drabbles of exactly 100 words or multiples thereof. Sort of a self-assigned homework thing.
1. Cane

America gasped as the cane came down once again on his backside, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and wetting the blindfold. He was achingly hard and craving Russia. But instead of the touch he so desperately needed, again came the cane.

"Ivan!" He whined, writhing on his knees, his hands cuffed to the headboard. "Please stop teasing me!" He begged, panting hotly.

Ivan gave a predatory grin the American couldn't see and slid a gloved hand up the curve of his ass. "So desperate, lapushka." He purred, slapping his abused backside. "I love it when you beg."


	2. Tunnel

"All I'm saying is that maybe we would fight a little less if your boss wasn't a crazy dickhole." America grumbled into his phone, his increasingly belligerent boyfriend on the other side.

"Well maybe if you and your bosses were not all control freaks, we would not fight as much, either." The Russian man snorted derisively.

Alfred frowned, snarling. "I am not controlling! You're the one who's controlling! I've talked to your ex-satellites, Ivan. I know all about your control issues." He mocked, sneering.

"America-"

Alfred cut him off. "Sorry, going through a tunnel. I'll call you back." He lied.


	3. Moon

Ivan didn't trust the grin on his boyfriend's face as the shorter nation approached him. It generally meant that Alfred had gotten some fool idea in his head that he thought would be funny.

"Heya baby~" America sing-songed, wrapping his arms around his lover. "You know what today is, don't you?" He winked, nuzzling his face into Ivan's scarf. Ivan just sighed in exasperation and shook his head.

"It's Valentine's Day, and I got a poem.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

It's not gay

If it's on the moon!"

Alfred cackled at his own stupid joke as Ivan facepalmed.


	4. Definition

The definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.

Under that definition, Alfred was certifiably crazy.

He felt stuck in a loop in pretty much all aspects of his life. War after war he couldn't end, scandal after scandal that proved his power had gone to his head, even his elections felt like they were repeats every single year. But he kept on, as if nothing was wrong.

In his personal life, too, things were cycling back around. The way Ivan looked at him, it felt like 1945 and it felt so cold.


	5. Ghost

Ivan shivered as he passed through a patch of bitter cold. To him, it just meant that there was a draft somewhere letting the winter cold into the warm house where it didn't belong. To his American boyfriend, however…

"I-Ivan? Did you feel that?" Alfred asked, his voice small and his shivers not entirely due to the cold. "I swear to gif, that was a cold spot! I told you your house was haunted! But did you listen to me, no. You just had to keep living in this creepy-ass haunted house! And now a ghost-"

Ivan kissed him quiet.


	6. Pen

Ivan couldn't take his eyes off of his American classmate. The way his tongue twirled around his pen as he thought, absentmindedly clicking it with the tip. He didn't even know what he was doing, didn't comprehend the erotic picture he made as the writing utensil slid in and out of his mouth.

Ivan's eyes traced cherry red lips as the clicker was caught between two perfectly straight, white rows of teeth, his tongue flicking out to lick it as he bit down thoughtfully. Ivan felt his pants growing tight as he looked away, embarrassed. He missed Alfred's knowing smirk.


	7. Loom

Ivan had this tendency to…well, loom. He would stand there like it was completely normal to just lean over someone with that disconcerting stare of his, giggling childishly while saying incredibly, incredibly creepy things. So it didn't really surprise many people that he had so few friends. Even those in trade agreements with him didn't necessarily want to hang out with him.

But, then again, America had never really been able to read the atmosphere. He didn't get that sense of dread around Russia, or find him creepy. Sure, he was a commie bastard, but he was still kinda cute.


	8. Hospital

Alfred was sick of hospitals. The stale, sterile smell, the endless amounts of bland, blank white, waiting to die…

Really, this hospital was almost exactly the same as every other hospital he'd been in and out of since his diagnosis. The nurses were nicer than some, not as nice as others, the food was nothing to shake a stick at as far as hospital food went, but it was nothing special. Really, it was an almost perfectly average hospital.

But at least this hospital had Ivan, his hottie of a roommate that was dying almost as fast as he was.


	9. Snow

If there was one thing that made winter worth it for both Ivan and Alfred, it was snow. Neither of them really liked the coldest months of the year, no matter what people assumed about the taller Nation. In winter sunflowers wouldn't grow and General Winter liked to be a dick to him.

But watching his lapushka frolic about, hair catching powdery white flakes that made it seem even more golden, he couldn't help but love the snow. His darling solnyushka looked so happy and innocent. His beautiful blue eyes lit up with joy, and Ivan's world lit up too.


	10. Salt

The way Alfred looked at him after the Revolution was like salt in his wounds, which still bled sometimes as skirmishes broke out between the Reds and the remaining White forces, or sometimes with Kulaks in the countryside. He lay awake at night as the pain wracked his body and thought of the coldness in those blue eyes that had once regarded him with such warmth. He had no idea that the boy could even be that cold, his eyes biting into him like Arctic winds.

For months afterwards he would search them out, looking for warmth and finding hatred.


	11. Drink

Ivan drank himself into a stupor the night that Alfred defeated the Dark Lord.

It wasn't that uncommon, actually. Loads of witches and wizards got completely pissed that night, but they were celebrating. Ivan? Ivan was mourning.

He was morning his sister, Natalia, who had died on the battlefield, but who would not be missed by anyone but him because she had died on the wrong side. For Katyusha, who died for the Light.

But most of all, he mourned their friendship. He thought Alfred sure had no need for him with the Dark Lord dead.

How wrong he was.


	12. Mirror

Alfred moaned and tried to hide his face, but Ivan just gave him a feral grin and yanked his head up by his hair, forcing him to look into the mirror, into his own lust-clouded eyes as he was pounded mercilessly from behind.

"Mmm, please, baby, don't make me look." He whined, biting his lip and trying to avoid his own gaze. But it was transfixing, watching his own face go slack with pleasure, cheeks stained red and body writhing desperately, needy and pliant.

"Look at yourself, my little whore. Watch me take you, capitalist slut."

And so he did.


	13. Escape

Ivan and Alfred had always been each other's escape. Even at the height of the Cold War, their only respite from the Hell they had created together was each other. Secret midnight trysts in dirty hotel rooms, hard and fast and brutal up against the cold metal of missile silos, excruciatingly slow and teasing in the back of Alfred's car.

It had wound down a little after the fall of the Soviet Union. For a while, at least, the world had been safe enough to bear. But as it started tumbling back into chaos, they tumbled back into bed together.


	14. Motorcycle

Alfred's dad had always warned him about guys with motorcycles. Maybe that's why he found them to be such a turn on. The purr of the engine between his legs as he clung to Ivan's warm back, the wind ruffling his hair as he felt their hearts beat together. It was exhilarating.

He wound his arms tighter around the Russian teen's waist as they rode, the sun sinking low on the horizon as they sped down country roads to Their Spot, a small "beach" on the shore of the river only the two of them knew. Their own secret paradise.


	15. Carpet

America really shouldn't have taken Seychelles up on her invitation to her beach party. Beach parties meant swimwear and swimwear meant two things:

Everyone could clearly see the bright red rug burn on his knees

Russia refused to wear anything but a fucking speedo

The first was a problem because, well, everyone knew exactly how he'd gotten that rug burn and kept snickering at him and pointing at Russia. The second was a problem on just so, so, so many levels. It was simultaneously arousing and an affront to his fashion sense. How did he manage that one?


	16. Belt

"America, tell me what you did wrong." Ivan demanded, towering above the smaller nation, who knelt naken before him, head bowed and hands tied behind his back.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Master, I've been a good boy." He protested, pouting indignantly. Ivan scoffed and yanked on the leash attached to America's collar, sending him sprawling to the floor with his ass in the air, unable to get up.

"I will ask one more time, what did you do wrong?" He asked, unwinding his belt from his belt loops.

He didn't even give him the chance to lie.


	17. Stamina

America had amazing amounts of stamina. You could chalk it up to his strength, his youth, his personality, whatever. The point was that Russia could barely keep up. It was almost like the boy had no refractory period at all. And his constant begging for Ivan to let him suck his cock…actually, no, that was pretty great. But still, Ivan needed rest! He wasn't a nymphomaniac sex machine, unlike some people he could name.

But when Alfred finally tired himself out and lay sleeping in Ivan's arms, seeming as innocent and pure as an angel, ir was worth the exhaustion.


	18. Pocket

"Is that a pipe in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" America leered, waggling his eyebrows, at his Russian lover.

Ivan, however, looked supremely confused by the pick up line. "Yes, that is my pipe, but I am also happy to see you, Alik." He stated, nodding earnestly. America just laughed and shook his head.

"Babe, it's a silly pick up line. I was implying that you have a boner." He snorted. Ivan just giggled softly.

"Silly America, my coat is too thick for seeing erection. But if you want to…" America blushed and punched him.


	19. Spine

Alfred loved the way Ivan's fingers would dance up his spine as they kissed, sending shivers throughout his body. His fingertips were calloused without being rough and the feather-light touches made his head spin. Those warm fingers would trail up his back, taking his shirt with them all the way up until Ivan was pulling the garment over his head.

He didn't know what Ivan's obsession with his spine was, but he was greatful. When they were locked together, Alfred on his knees and Ivan bent over him, he would trail kisses up it, leaving his knees weak and shaking.


	20. Exhibition

America fought back a moan as Ivan took him into his mouth, tryng to keep a straight face, pretending to listen to what Germany was saying. But in reality, his entire focus was on the Nation under the table, sucking him off.

His legs shook and he could feel the heat of a blush on his face as his hand moved carefully to tangle in his boyfriend's hair. He couldn't believe he was doing this in the middle of a meeting, but he had never ben more turned on in his life. The threat of being caught was a drug.


	21. Taste

Alfred had somewhat of an oral fixation. Luckily for Ivan, this manifested in a love of giving head. It was amazing how much getting someone else off could get to him. He loved the feeling of his jaw and throat stretching to accommodate his lover, the intoxicating smell of him. But most of all, and apparently most strangely, he loved the taste of Ivan's cum.

Of course, it wasn't like it objectively tasted good. Jizz was an acquired taste at best. But there was just something about the taste and feeling of Ivan unloading in his mouth that he loved.


	22. Surfer

Ivan had never done well at the beach. Family visits to the Black Sea had normally ended in him looking lobsteresque. But living in Southern California, it seemed unavoidable. It felt like he was never more than 10 minutes from a beach, and friends and collegues always felt the need to invite him. And he would be forced into the sun to burn every time.

Luckily, he had found a few things about the beach to enjoy from the safety of the shade. He didn't need to leave his umbrella to admire the cute blond surfur boy named Alfred Jones.


	23. Vivacity

Ivan couldn't help but be amazed by his boyfriend's vivacity, charm, and good humor in crowds. Ivan himself preferred to sit in a corner and people watch, keeping to himself, but Alfred was completely at home. His eyes would light up curiously when someone shared and interesting bit of gossip, and the wicked smirk that would slide onto his lips right before he told a dirty joke drove Ivan to distraction.

Before he would people watch at parties. Now, his eyes never left the ray of sunshine that called himself Alfred F. Jones. He only had eyes for his lover.


	24. Modesty

A surprising thing about Alfred was how modest he could be. The first time Ivan had undressed him, he'd been nervous and hesitant and blushing. He had curled in on himself, bringing his legs together to cover up his vulnerability. He looked innocent and virginal and it surprised Ivan how much it made his head swim.

He had been insatiable that night, treating Alfred more gently than any partner before him, but enjoying him thoroughly once he'd opened up. The expressive young man, face an open book of pleasure, consumed Ivan, burning in every nerve ending long after they parted.


	25. Chest

The first time Alfred saw Ivan without his shirt on, he couldn't quit staring. It was somewhere in the midst of WWII on that tropical island trap. Eventually the heat had gotten to him and he had peeled off his coat and damp undershirt to reveal broad shoulders and a firm chest.

Alfred stared, transfixed, at the pale expanse of Ivan's torso, mapping the scars and the curvature of his muscles. His mouth may or may not have been hanging open. He just wanted to touch…

"Do you mind, Amerika." Ivan growled at the younger nation, who stammered and apology.


	26. Trace

Alfred had this strange habit of tracing shapes on his chest when they were tangled up together in bed. At first he'd followed their path closely, wondering if maybe the fingers were tracing words or something similar. But no, just shapes. Circles and spirals mostly, as Alfred let his thoughts circle and spiral.

Eventually Ivan stopped paying suck close attention and just let him dance his digits across his chest, slowly falling asleep under those scrolling fingers. It was one of the few circumstances under which he could truly sleep. No nightmares, no tossing about. Maybe Alfred knew that, too.


	27. Hips

Ivan, Alfred thought, had a strange obsession with his hips. He would wrap his hands around them when he came up behind him, placing his fingers perfectly over bruises he had left there on purpose. When he went down on him he would spend weird amounts of time teasing the skin there. Not that he was complaining, the teasing got him hot and the possessive displays made him feel all tingly inside, but it was a little weird.

He asked him about it one day, Ivan chuckled. "Do not be offended, but your hips are wide. I like that, Fedya."


	28. Icebreaker

"Overweight polar bear."

Ivan whirled around, a baffled look on his face. A grinning young man stood before him, two drink in his hands.

"Excuse me….what?" He asked, still trying to process the fact that a random guy in a bar had walked over to him with a weird non sequitur.

"Well, it breaks the ice." The man winked, extending one of the drinks to him. "I just wanted to come over and say hi, you're really cute and I was wondering if you'd like a drink."

Ivan just looked at him like he was too fucking done with his shit. Which, you know, he was. "I am almost 100% sure that you put something in that drink, you crazy person." He deadpanned.

"Look, I didn't put anything in the drink. You're just cute and I wanted a reason to say hi. I can order you another one straight from the bartender, if you want. That way you'll know it's legit!" He grinned, setting the drink down and giving him a big thumbs up.

He considered it for a moment. The guy was cute, and he didn't _seem_ crazy. "Alright. You have one drink and five minutes. Vodka and sprite."


	29. Showman

Alfred was nothing if not a splendid showman. He loved to create spectacle and wow with his force of personality as well as his magic tricks. Even when putting on a show in their livingroom for Ivan and a few friends, he insisted on dressing up in his costume and setting up an impromptu stage, complete with curtains. It was endearing, really, even if it was also slightly annoying sometimes. But that was just Alfred in general.

"And now for my next trick, I'm gonna pull a dick out of a hat!"

And then sometimes he was a complete idiot.


	30. Tuition

Alfred wasn't really sure how he felt about his relationship with Ivan, in all honestly. On one hand, they had fun, they got along, Ivan was a cool, funny guy, and the sex was great. On the other hand, however, they'd met on craiglist when Al answered Ivan's ad offering his services as a sugar daddy of sorts. Alfred lives with him, fucks him, goes on dates with him, and in exchange he gets a roof over his head, food in his stomach, and his tuition paid.

He thinks, most of the time, that they could have done all this without the monetary incentives. It's not like Ivan is a repugnant bastard who treats him like shit, or anything. He's a great guy and Al really liked him. But he just felt weird about it. Maybe it was the fact that he couldn't be sure, this way, if Ivan liked him or if he really wanted a piece of live-in tail. Maybe it was because he didn't know what he would say if his "boyfriend" ever met his parents.

He flopped back onto their soft, spacious bed, draping himself against the fine sheets. It wasn't like he was materialistic or anything, or that he thought that love was a commodity or whatever. He wasn't heartless or using Ivan. But it felt that way sometimes. When Ivan gave him spending money out of the blue, it always came with some show of affection. Was that because Ivan really liked him, or was it just something he thought he got for giving him money? Everything was so much more confusing than it needed to be and he hated it. Was it fucked up, this was? Should he break up with him? He really liked Ivan, but did Ivan like him? Who knew?


	31. Facial

Alfred slowly moved his mouth up from where he had been deep throating Ivan, hollowing his cheeks out as he rose up, torturously slow. He could tell his lover was about to come undone by the way his fingers had tangled painfully in his hair. It wouldn't be long now until Ivan finished, and Al knew just how to get him there.

"Master Ivan~" He purred as he pulled off, hand still stroking the rock solid length. "Please, cum on my face." He asked, hand and tongue still working. Ivan groaned and tensed, seed spilling all over his lover's cheeks.


	32. Boning

"Oh, I could never run for office." He told Ivan as they lazed about after school, video games laid aside and an empty pizza box on the bed with Alfred, where he was laying on his back with his head hanging off the side.

"Why not?" Ivan asked, finishing off his last piece. Alfred had many ideas about things and how to make them better, so it should stand to reason, Ivan thought, for him to become a politician. Alfred apparently disagreed.

"Because, by the time I'm old enough to be running for office, you can bet that people will be dragging up shit like candidate's internet search history. And, boy, let me tell you, I have some skeletons in that closet!" He whistled.

"Political skeletons? Are you secret socialist, Fedya?" Ivan snickered, teasing the other boy. Alfred simply laughed it off and lobbed a crust at him.

"Nah, more 'boning' skeletons, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows. He dissolved into a fit of laughter, able to practically see the blue screen of death on his boyfriend's face.

"Oh my fricken glob, you should see your face right now, Vanya!" He roared, falling off the bed as he laughed uncontrollably and onto the other boy.

"What the hell have you been searching for that would ruin your chances at running for office!?" He asked, almost worried. What, exactly, did Alfred think was so bad in his search history? Oh god, please don't let his boyfriend be some sort of necrophiliac freak or something!

Alfred blushed hard and leaned in, whispering in his ear. Ivan's own face grew red.

Oh.

That wasn't….well, he certainly wasn't….abnormal? Embarrassing, sure. Would it ruin a political career? Absolutely. But it could have been so much worse than that. Ivan was relieved, to be honest. He'd been expecting something truly horrifying, but he was always one to jump to the worst conclusions.

"That is…oh, dear." Ivan stuttered out, panicked.

"I-Ivan?" Alfred asked, sounding worried. "Dude, you don't like…think I'm weird or gross or anything?" He asked, shrinking back a little.

"No! No, no, it's not that." He assured him. "I just didn't expect that of you, honestly. You seem so, well, modest about…things." He coughed, averting his eyes.

"Well…yeah, but, maybe that's why?" He asked. Ivan shrugged.

"You should have told me." He scolded

"Why?" He snorted. Ivan turned red again.

"Because!"


	33. Station

The observation deck of the ISS Columbia was Ivan's favorite place in the universe. Or at least on the ship. But since he'd never been anywhere else in the universe, he supposed that counted as well as anything. Despite having one of the best views on the ship, with big windows overlooking the Earth "below" them almost 24/7, it was often quiet. Every six months to a year a shuttle would come up bearing new residents, and for a while after they would flock here to gaze back down at their home in awe or homesickness. But they would eventually tire of it and learn to go about their daily lives as if they had always lived in space.

Ivan, however, really had always lived on the space station. Though his parents had come from Earth, from Russia, he had been born here. Columbia was the only home he had ever known. So how could he tire of that beautiful blue marble hanging in the inky blackness of the void? No, what he grew tired of was the same grey everywhere; grey walls and grey, tired faces. He wanted to see blue skies and yellow sunflowers and feel the sun on his skin. He missed Earth, if you could miss a place you've never been. He wondered if there was a word for that in any of the languages spoken down there. On Columbia, he only ever heard English and Russian

He sighed and leaned against the railing, the edges of his scarf dangling over the edge. He looked at the Earth, tracing the shapes of the continents with his eyes. He'd spent so many hours staring at the planet, comparing it to maps, that he could even pick out the landlocked countries and identify most of the rivers and visible lakes. He could tell you which glowing speck was St. Petersburg and which-Moscow. He could even name many locations in other countries. One of his favorites was the bright glow of New York, the Big Apple. Why they called it that, he had no idea. But he knew one thing. If you could make it there, you could make it anywhere.

That was where he would go first, after Petersburg, of course, if he ever got to go to Earth. He would prove that even someone who had never stepped foot on Earth in their life could make it there. He would live among the Earthlings, and no one would know the difference between him and them. Maybe he would even become famous for something, though he didn't think he had any talents that could make someone famous.

He took a faded picture out of his pocket of a boy with blue eyes and blonde hair, standing in front of the Statue of Liberty and waving, a big grin on his face. Alfred, his pen pal. He would be waiting for him, right at that spot. He'd promised him, and Alfred would never break a promise. Ivan couldn't wait.


	34. Station 2

Ivan stood among the bustling crowd outside the Penn Station shuttle dock. He felt heavy from the natural gravity and the influx of oxygen was making his head swim. There were so many people coming and going, already many more than he was used to. He knew, objectively, that there were over 9 billion people on the planet, but with all the people rushing about, it felt like all of humanity was packed into this one building.

He flicked his wrist, his phone's interface projecting in front of him from the projector on his wrist. It was only noon, and Alfred had said he wouldn't be able to make it to Liberty until 1. He was relieved, the shuttle had been late to the ISS Columbia and he was worried that he wouldn't get to Earth in time to figure out how to get to the statue on time.

He checked the maps spread all around, looking for the easiest way to get to Lady Liberty, where he and Alfred had been planning to meet since the third grade. He reached into his pocket and took out the picture of Alfred, smiling and waving from that very spot. The picture was 3 years old now, worn at the corners and where it was kept folded in his pocket. He smiled and traced Alfred's face with his thumb before folding the picture back up and tucking it in his pocket.

His whole body thrummed as he boarded the bus to the pier where Alfred would be waiting, nervous anticipation buzzing through every vein. What if he wasn't what Alfred expected? What if he thought he was weird or had just set this up to make fun of him? It was a hell of a long way to go for a prank, though…

The bus stopped and he got out, still lost in his swirling thoughts as he looked out over the pier. It was milling with tourists snapping pictures and tour guides dumping exposition on gaggles of inattentive followers. He thought for a moment about leaving, telling Alfred that he had missed the shuttle and hide somewhere. But he had to meet the boy who had been his best friend for years, the one who had encouraged him to do his best and follow his dream of coming to Earth. He couldn't just bail on him like that.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and whirled around, heart pounding despite the fact that he kept telling himself that this was no big deal. And, of course, it was Alfred, smiling his heart out and looking extremely pleased to see him.

"Yo, big guy! I'd recognize you anywhere! You really stand out in a crowd, don't you?" He asked, his laugh hearty and warm. Ivan found himself smiling along.

"Oh…da, I suppose so. I am taller than average, I suppose. I am told this is something that sometimes happens to those who grow up in space because the gravity on the stations…" He stopped himself, realizing he was rambling. But Alfred was just nodding along.

"Yeah, I totally get it. You'll have to tell me all about it sometime! I really want to hear about life on the station. I've never been to space!" He gave another excited grin, tugging on Ivan's arm.

"Da, da, but only if you tell me everything about growing up on Earth." He agreed.

"How 'bout over coffee?" Alfred suggested, dragging him along behind him excitedly. His hand was warm, and Ivan smiled as Alfred rushed him off. Life on Earth was going to be interesting.


End file.
